Love Letters
by Jillian Jacobs
Summary: Love Letters follows Harry and Ginny in the difficult time post Voldemort.  Harry discovers his parent's history, and slowly learns how to live again with the help of a greying werewolf and a fiery red head.


**Disclaimer:** As has been previously stated in all my fan fictions, I do not, nor will I ever, own Harry Potter or its characters (except for anything that is commercially available…lol)

**A/N:** This is a companion piece to Seeking You, a Lily/James story I wrote a while back. It is not necessary that you read the other story, but it will make more of the subtleties if you do.

**Love Letters**

_Living_

Harry Potter stared morosely into the merrily crackling flames of the Burrow's fire. The dancing fire seemed to be mocking him, reflecting the joy the entire wizarding community was reveling in. Harry couldn't bring himself to join in. Whilst the idea of a Voldemort-free world was indeed a thrilling one, the fact remained that it was he, Harry, who killed the evil scum. Oddly enough, it is quite hard to come to terms with oneself as a murderer.

After the battle he, the Weasleys, and Hermione returned to the burrow; none dead, but perhaps a little worse for the wear. And they were happy. Indeed, it was a muted sort of happiness, as none could forget the steep price of their comrade's lives that was the cost of their victory. But it was over. At long last they could live without the shadow of the dark lord ever present behind them.

And so they lived. Bill and Fleur returned to their own quarters in London. Charlie returned to Romania, and Percy retreated back to the Ministry. The twins threw themselves into their joke shop with a renewed fervor to celebrate the downfall of U-No-Poo. Mr. Weasley went to work every day, and Mrs. Weasley threw herself into her cooking, muttering darkly about how thin they'd all gotten. As for Ron and Hermione, they kept disappearing together for long periods of time. While he was happy Ron had finally pulled his head of his arse, Harry fervently wished never to run across them during these long absences.

This left Ginny. Ginny was definitely living. She lived in the kitchen, dancing around helping her mother in the kitchen. She lived in the living room, whopping him at a game of chess. She lived in the garden, bending down in an absolutely sinful manner to yank a gnome from its hole. Merlin help him, she even lived in his clothes, her scent haunting him constantly after she helped with the laundry. Yes, Ginny was definitely living.

This left Harry sitting in front of the fire, decidedly not living. If he _was_ living, it would be he and Ginny that disappeared for hours in the shaded garden. It would be he that held hands with his girlfriend under the table, and he would be the receiver of accidental brushes that both parties knew were no accident. No, Harry was not living. Instead of living, Harry was staring blankly at the flames, wondering how anyone could bring themselves to love a murderer.

"Brooding again, Harry?"

The familiar voice of Remus Lupin startled Harry out of his self pitying reverie.

"I'm not brooding!"

Lupin simply raised his eyebrows.

"I'm…I'm…contemplating. Silently." He added.

Lupin continued to stare in an infuriatingly knowledgeable manner.

"Fine, I'm brooding."

Settling into the worn armchair next to Harry's, the graying werewolf sighed.

"How did you know I've been brooding anyway?" Harry asked.

"Molly's been worried. Wanted me to come have a chat with you."

Harry turned to see Mrs. Weasley's head whip behind the door. It was his turn to sigh. "Don't worry Professor, I'm fine."

"Yes, that's what worries me."

Harry stared warily at Lupin, wondering where the man was going with this.

"Harry, you have just defeated the greatest dark wizard of all time. It seems to me you should be happy. Elated even, I daresay."

Turning to the window, Harry let his old professor's words roll around in his head a bit, where his eyes caught on a head of shining ginger hair. Ginny was stretched out lazily on a garden bench, her t-shirt riding up just enough to give him a fantastic view of the thin strip of smooth white skin between her shorts and shirt. His eyes traveled down her bare legs for days until coming to rest at her wriggling toes. Harry allowed his gaze to travel back to her face. She appeared to be reading a novel, and as Harry squinted at her face he realized her gorgeous brown eyes were glistening with tears. The endings always get her…

He watched her for awhile, one lone tear running down her cheek when she closed the book, but smiling at the same time. Women…Harry thought, rolling his eyes.

It was then that Harry became aware of Lupin watching him watch her. He had rather an odd expression on his face, and Harry couldn't tell whether it was good or bad.

"What?" Harry snapped rather defensively.

Lupin didn't respond for awhile, looking as if he was weighing his response carefully. At long last, he opened his mouth. "You know, I've seen that look before."

Harry raised his eyebrows innocently, pretending he was just having a look at the clouds. "What look?"

"You're pining."

"Pining! I don't pine! I…wallow…and brood. I certainly do _not_ pine."

"I'm afraid you do, Harry. I've seen that look on a boy that looked strikingly like you many times twenty years ago. Funnily enough, he was looking at a red head as well." Lupin said cheerfully.

"I…my dad?"

"Yes, you look at Ginny exactly the way James used to gaze at Lily."

Harry pondered this statement for awhile, wondering of the implications of this statement.

Oblivious to Harry's confused thoughts, Lupin continued. "Did I ever tell you how your mother and father finally got together?"

His attention fully on Lupin now, Harry shook his head no, transfixed. Lupin chuckled to himself.

"As you know, it was in our seventh year. James' head had deflated a bit, but there was no denying he still loved a good joke. Thinking back on it, we really have Sirius to thank for it," Here Lupin gave a sad sort of grin. "You see, we were sitting in the common room one night when Sirius decided to turn Lily's hair purple. Well, you can imagine she wasn't happy, and she thought James did it…"

Remus talked for ages detailing every prank his mother and father played on each other. Soon Harry was roaring with laughter, feeling truly happy for the first time since Voldemort kicked it.

"I can't believe…in his butt! Good god that had to sting!" Harry wheezed through his laughter.

Lupin gave an appreciative chuckle. "Yes, James had no idea what hit him..."

After the two of them had settled down a bit, Harry looked searchingly at Lupin. "But if they were pranking each other, how did they get together? I mean, pranks are not exactly romance inducing…"

"Ah, that's where you're wrong. After the war raged on for awhile, your parents became friends, and called a truce. James, however, realizing how great a sense of humor your mother had, loved her more than ever. So James consulted his best friends for help. One of us," here Remus coughed and tried not to look guilty, "decided that he should write a love letter."

Remus laughed at the horrified look on Harry's face. "Don't be too hasty, it worked in the end. Unfortunately, though, Lily thought it was a prank at first, and didn't take to kindly to it. In the end, though, she realized he was sincere and wrote a love letter of her own. Come to think of it, I believe I still have those letters…If you like I can hunt them down for you."

Harry thought about it. Getting to know his dead parents that much better sounded fantastic. On the other hand, they were love letters…

Seeing the dubious look on Harry's face, no doubt, Lupin said "Not to worry Harry. These are not your average mushy slop of words."

Relieved, Harry nodded his assent to read the letters. As Remus shook Harry's hand, promising to return the next day with the letters, Harry found his gaze once again on his own fiery red head, now napping peacefully in the garden. He found himself wondering what it would have been like to have a normal seventh year. Seeking unused broom cupboards with Ginny, or sitting in companionable silence in the common, only their knees touching, offering quiet comfort. Harry thought back to his parents. Even waging a prank war with each other would have been better than those long months of silence between them. He wasn't certain about love letters though…

Harry looked again at Ginny's sleeping form, showing the first signs of waking. But then again, if it meant having her in his arms again, perhaps a love letter wouldn't be so bad…although definitely a last resort.

He watched Ginny stretch from her nap and glance at the window he was framed in. She smiled at him, though it was tinged with a hint of sadness, and patted the spot on the bench next to her.

Harry smiled back and felt a bubble grow in his chest that felt suspiciously like hope. With one last glance at the fire, Harry decided that for today, at least, he was going to live.

**A/N:** Let me know of you want more chapters! I think it kind of reads as a one shot, but I have some ideas for continuing it. So if you like it, review and let me know if you want more!


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